Uniform
by Athenais777
Summary: Ron has developed a particular fantasy involving Hermione's and her Hogwarts uniform over the years. Will she oblige his fantasy? Will she reveal her own? Rated M for a reason.*Now Complete*
1. Prologue

**I am republishing the first three chapters of this story to allow a small change in story plot. The change is about the time line of events and will include small revisions mostly for chapters 2 and I was making revisions, I noticed a few typos in this chapter as well so I am using the opportunity to correct them.**

_**A/N: **New Ron/Hermione story. It's all about Hermione's Hogwarts uniform. The prologue is short but explains the root of a certain fantasy of Ron. I expect it will be only a few more chapters after that. Rated M for fluff and language (Especially the prologue, from teenage Ron's point of view)._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

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_**Prologue**

**September 1991**

Ron was looking at the girl exiting the compartment. Mental! She was a bossy know-it-all. "You've got dirt on your nose," he replayed in his head. Yeah? At least he hadn't put his bloody uniform on the minute they had left King's Cross Station. Although he reckoned the uniform suited her, that Granger girl. She seemed to be bossy enough to be the bloody daughter of that McGonagall woman the twins mentioned all the time.

**September 1992**

He had barfed slugs all over Hermione's school uniform. Her uniform was always so proper and crisp because unlike his, it was new every year and not a hand-me-down that was two inches too short. And he had put slug slime on it while Harry and she were helping him to Hagrid's. Granted, the slugs were the unfortunate results of trying to defend her honour but truth was she probably could have done that better on her own. He just couldn't explain. When that fucking little git had called her a Mudblood, something had snapped in him. A desire to protect her and to tear bloody Malfoy into pieces, ripping his limbs one by one. No-one would insult his best friend!

**September 1993**

It was warm in the Divination classroom, too warm and the smell was sickening. Ron took a look at Hermione. All he could think about was how sad it was that her Hogwarts robes were covering the best addition to Hermione over the summer: tits. He had noticed when he had seen her at the Leaky Cauldron. While he had acquired more freckles and a sun burn in Egypt, she had acquired a nice tan and tits over the summer. Such a shame her uniform was not doing them justice... _Oi Weasley, you sick perv. Why are you thinking of your best friend's tits? Focus on the tea leaves!_

**December 1994**

Hermione looked different, he thought. What was different about her, he pondered. She was back to being his friend. She had just brilliantly shown Malfoy off (Twitchy little ferret: that was a good name for that little fuck.) She was carrying books and wearing her Hogwarts robes. Sadly, the uniform still hid all the girl parts he would like to see. Oh yeah! He had noticed she was a girl. He had noticed the previous year when she had suddenly grown tits. And he had hated the Hogwarts uniform ever since. The teeth! It was her teeth! Her smile was so… pretty? Nah, pretty could not be a word for Hermione. Intelligent? Brilliant? Yes. Pretty? No bloody way. You couldn't find your best friend pretty, could you? Then why did he care so much who she was going to the Yule Ball with?

**November 1995**

There was something exciting about Hermione Granger breaking school rules. It made her look fierce, determined... beautiful? She had put the same ardour in the secret DA meetings as she would have in any other lesson. Hermione never did anything half-arsed. She had removed her robes and jumper from her Hogwarts uniform and was just wearing the skirt and button-down cotton shirt. Ron had a hard time concentrating on whatever Harry was saying. He could imagine himself moving his hands up her legs and underneath her skirt, feeling her arse, unbuttoning the shirt, touching her tits -he could clearly see their outline now. How he would like to... "Stupefy!" She had just stunned him. It took him a little longer to go to sleep that night. That fantasy about Hermione and her uniform led to an intense wanking session. Yeah, blokes fantasised all the time about their best friend while wanking, right?

**February 1997**

He was such a pathetic git. Lavender had just snogged him senseless and all he had thought of while she had been thoroughly inspecting his mouth and teeth with her tongue was that maybe Lavender wanted to be his dentist. Hermione had told him about dentists tending to people's teeth and mouth in general. That was what her Muggle parents did. Well, thinking of dentists had made him think of Hermione and thinking of Hermione had made him wish it were Hermione rather than Lavender. He had closed his eyes, and probably his brain too, and enjoyed the snogging while fantasising it were Hermione. Fucking pathetic! He saw her when he entered the common room. She was sitting comfortably in a chair and had Crookshanks on her lap. She was still wearing her Hogwarts robes and they probably would be full of ginger hair after that. How much he wished it could be his ginger hair instead. If she liked ginger hair that much, he wouldn't mind putting his head on her lap and let her stroke his hair rather than her bloody cat. She could stroke other parts too...

**July 1997**

She had arrived the previous night and had told him of the length she had gone to to protect her parents. She had been devastated and he had taken her in his arms to let her cry. He was still too pathetic to even have tried to kiss her, let alone tell her how he felt about her. _Nice job Weasley! Complete pathetic fuck._ Yes, it was not the right time but hey, Bill and Fleur were getting married. It wasn't the right time for that either but would there ever be a right time? She was in his room, sorting through her stuff. She told him they would need to do more sorting when Harry arrived the next day. She had said no more. They both knew moving Harry from his Muggle relatives' home would be dangerous. He saw her go through her Hogwarts stuff, taking piles of books and... was that her Hogwarts uniform? He would not see her in it for a while. Would he ever see her in it, besides in his wicked wanking fantasies? That's when the truth sank in: they were not going back to Hogwarts...


	2. Ron's obsession

**As I am republishing, this chapter is the one that has the most edits from the original version. The changes are about the sequence in which events take place (from July 1999 till the end: see end-note for more details.)**

**A/N:** _Thank you to all who reviewed/favorited/alerted on this story. This chapter continues from Ron's point of view but the rest will be more like a regular story. Please read and review.  
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_Disclaimer: still not mine_

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**Ron's obsession**

**October 1998:**

Ron had a hard time focusing on what George was telling him. Something about storing the love potions in another place in the back room of the shop. He thought George could take his bloody love potions and stuff them. All he could think of was that in two days he would see Hermione again. They probably would shag like rabbits: it had been six weeks! He had waited what? Four? Five? Fuck... seven years, really, to have her. He probably had added two years to that total by being a complete and utter prat to her. He was sometimes questioning how mental Hermione was to be with a git like him. Six weeks! And it had felt like six hundred years. He missed her. He missed her smile, her big brown eyes, her fantastic hair. He missed her wit, her bossing him. He missed her laugh, the way she bit her lower lip when she was nervous. And he missed her in his arms, the complete abandon. He missed hearing her say his name in the throes of passion. Two more days to go! Maybe he would get lucky -why, yes, he certainly would- and she would wear her Hogwarts uniform. He had not told her yet how it made him feel to see her in it. What he wanted to do to her in that uniform. _Weasley, you're still a pathetic sick perv! She probably will ditch you if she knows how twisted your mind gets! Yeah, but at least I know what's hidden underneath that uniform now!_

Two days later: he was sad to have to let her go back. They had indeed shagged like rabbits, both quite in need of the other. That had been mind-blowing. That was one of the beautiful thing_s _about Hermione. She never did anything half-arsed, be it learning, being a friend, arguing, hunting dark wizards, snogging, or shagging him brainless. Unfortunately, she had left her uniform behind at Hogwarts.

**Christmas 1998:**

The pop woke him up with a start and Ron instinctively reached for his wand. Friend or foe, he was ready to hex who came to his room at five in the morning, Christmas morning he reminded himself. His hexing disposition vanished and was replaced by pure jubilation when he realised it was Hermione. She was wearing a white dressing gown. She was supposed to be at her parents for Christmas and come later that evening at the Burrow with him but she had just Apparated in his bedroom. Not that he complained. Nah, he was certainly not complaining as he wasn't awake enough for that. Was he just dreaming? She came closer to his bed and he knew he wasn't dreaming. He thought the bulky dressing gown, just like her Hogwarts uniform, didn't do any justice to the beautiful body hidden beneath, especially he thought with longing, her tits. Her tits were spectacular: round, high, pert, and perfectly fitting in his palms. As if reading his mind, she undid the tie of her dressing gown, very much the same way she would open a present. She was completely starkers underneath. Murmuring a "Happy Christmas Ron", she slid in the bed next to him. That woke him up completely. She could be his bloody alarm clock any day she wanted. After they had enthusiastically celebrated their yuletide encounter, as he was holding her warm naked body against his, Ron wondered if she was ever wearing her uniform with nothing underneath. The thought along with the feel of her against him were enough to create a new very happy Christmas memory that probably could fuel a very strong Patronus in the future._ Happy bloody Christmas indeed!  
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**March 1999:**

She was lying on his bed completely starkers. She was lying on her belly, propped on her elbows, atop a pillow, his pillow. She was reading a copy of the Quibbler that had been on his bedside table with the same focus she would have given to _Hogwarts, a History_. Her legs were crossed at her ankles and her feet up, just above her beautiful bum. Her hair came around her in a cloud. She was pure perfection. No-one but him got to see her bare and unguarded like this. People often assumed Hermione was this prim and proper girl, the girl with the prefect or head girl badge perfectly pinned on her uniform -Ah! Her uniform! They thought she would never do anything out of line and probably had a broomstick stuck up her arse. A lovely arse, he thought as his eyes roamed down to the tentalising cheeks, just ahead of his fingers and she just gave a contented sigh. The truth was that she was actually not like that at all. Hermione didn't mind a bit of adventure as she had proven time and again. She also could be quite wild and passionate he thought as he remembered how she had just ridden him in complete ecstasy just ten minutes before.

**July 1999:**

He was helping her sort through her things. Blimey, how many books could one person have? She was finally moving in the same house as him, even if it was in her own bedroom. He would have to give Harry a really good birthday present. Harry had convinced her to move in with them. Ron had the nagging suspicion that Harry had gone to this length not just because of his brotherly feelings for Hermione. With Hermione in the house, Harry perfectly knew there would be no overbearing objection to his relationship with Ginny. _Sleek one, mate_. He looked at her as she was now putting her clothes in the wardrobe, neatly hanging and organizing them by type and colour. He then saw it: her Hogwarts uniform. Everything was there: her robes, the skirt, shirt, jumper, the gold and red tie, and the knee high white socks. Everything was neatly folded. He gave a sigh of contentment as he saw her uniform. She had not worn it in all the times they had managed to meet during their ten months apart. Sad but they had never kept clothes on too long at each of these meetings. Right! time to take a break from organising her bloody books. It had been a full four hours since he had seen her naked last!

**July 2001**

Three years of training and he was now a full Auror. How had he managed that? Of course, Defence Against the Dark Arts had come quite naturally, given all the practice he had had but he had to learn more about potion-making and transfiguration than he ever had in the six years he had spent at Hogwarts. And he had not benefited from Hermione's help, as she had been quite busy trying to reform the Ministry of Magic single-handedly from her job in the Department for the Regulation of Magical Creatures. Maybe Hermione was right -like she wasn't always right- and he was not that daft after all. Her smile had been the brightest and the one he had sought the most when he had officially received his badge. The party at Harry's, also a full Auror now, had been one for the ages. Yet, he was happy to Apparate with her back in their little flat. He couldn't wait to celebrate with her. They didn't make it to the bedroom and had a wild and satisfying romp in the sitting room. She was lying next to him on the sofa, as naked and spent as he was and with a cheeky smile on her face. That cheeky smile always meant she was up to something especially naughty. She rose and picked up his new Auror robes and put them on. They were largely over-sized for her small body. She told him she enjoyed a uniform just like the next woman. He thought longingly of another uniform on her. She then told him of her plans for the nights involving her and _his_ Auror uniform. How could he not be completely and utterly in love with a woman with such a brilliant -and devious- mind?

**August 2003**

They just had a row. A stupid thing. Weren't all their rows about stupid things? Why was his wife so stubborn and maddening? _Because you wouldn't have her any other way you fucking idiot!_ He kicked the wardrobe out of frustration before realising it was her wardrobe. The door opened and the content vanquished all his frustration and actually brought a smile to him. She had organised all her bloody clothes by colour and occasion. She even had labeled them. _Bloody hell, is there anything she doesn't organise?_ He looked at the little labels, written in her neat handwriting under each of the categories. He saw "work" and recognised the pin-striped suit she would wear most days. And there was the blue robes she would wear when she had to go in front of the Wizengamot. He saw the "Burrow Dinner" clothes: proper, slightly more traditional than her usual fare, all to make sure she appeased his Mum so she would leave her alone for not having given her a grandchild yet. He kept perusing until he reached the end of the wardrobe and saw a label reading "Boudoir". What the hell was "boudoir" he wondered. As he fanned through he found several pieces of lingerie that brought nice memories back to him. Oh yes, that little purple silky number had been part of a bloody fantastic birthday celebration. And then there were new ones he had never seen. As he imagined her in it, he found himself nearly drooling. And then he saw it: in that "boudoir" category, whatever it was, there was her Hogwarts uniform, along with her sexiest lingerie. That brought a chuckle to him and his frustration with her completely vanished. Just as he reclosed the door to her wardrobe. He heard her come in the room. They both said it at the same time: "Sorry". He took her in his arms and hugged her really tightly before kissing her. He then asked her very innocently what the word boudoir meant. She gave a chuckle and told her it could be a French biscuit used in some elaborate French dessert called a charlotte. He was always amazed by her vast knowledge but he could not figure out why in hell she would name part of her wardrobe after a bloody French biscuit. She then smiled at him and told him that boudoir was also an old word for a lady's bedroom. She then suggestively raised one eyebrow and cheekily added he should stay out of her wardrobe.

**March 2006**

They were finally moving in their own house. It wasn't posh or big like Grimmauld Place. It was bigger than the flat they had left behind and it was theirs! They needed the extra space he thought as his eyes rested on her very pregnant belly. He was awed by the miracle they had created and that was slowly but surely growing inside of her. And there were side effects he couldn't be happier about. About halfway through the pregnancy, she had started getting even more enthusiastic about their sex life, not that she hadn't been before. And it wasn't as if he needed his arm twisted either.

He was helping her unpacking her clothes in their new bedroom. He noticed she had her Hogwarts uniform in her hands and immediately his mind went back to the little fantasy he had entertained for many years. She was talking to him, mentioning something about getting rid of her uniform. No, no, no! No bloody way! She could not get rid of it. He blurted "No" a bit too fast and emphatically not to pique her curiosity. What was so special about her Hogwarts uniform, she wanted to know. He kept reddening, a dead give-away. _Right! Real smooth Weasley! Now tell her you've been dreaming all this time about the things you could do to her in this uniform!_ She asked if he had been having fantasies, of the sexual kind, about her in her uniform, her left eyebrow raised in amusement. Fuck, she knew him too well. And who could say "fantasies, of the sexual kind" with a straight face? He slowly nodded. There was no point denying it. She smiled mischievously and asked for more details, which he gave while still censoring some of the most wicked parts. She was silent for a minute, probably realising she had married and was carrying the child of a sick perv. Then, she told him that she had thought he had a thing for her uniform for a while. That's why she had kept it in the "boudoir" section of her wardrobe. She also said she would need some time for perfect execution of his little scenario and that it would need to wait anyway, pointing at her round belly, but she would keep this for a memorable occasion. In the meantime, she would make sure to put her uniform back in that special place in her wardrobe. He definitely had married the brightest witch of their age.

**December 2006**

He had just done it, he had finally arranged a full evening for just Hermione and him. As much as he hated to admit it, he had Ginny to thank for this idea. But it had been fairly easy to arrange. His Mum had almost wept with joy when he had asked her if she could mind Rose for one night. Actually, she had been so happy at the prospect of having her granddaughter for one full night that she had not even questioned why he needed a night alone with Hermione. Oh yes, as if he was going to tell his Mum about the wicked plans he had for that night. Well, he could have told her about the nice restaurant and the dancing but nothing else. A cute cooing sound took him away from his anticipation. He made faces at Rose to keep her entertained. His daughter. He still was completely awed by this little miracle with her dark red curls and eyes the same colour as his. Rose was babbling and laughing back at him. He had volunteered to stay home with Rose to give Hermione a well-needed day just for her.

Hermione came home, looking more relaxed than she had in a while. She smiled tenderly when she saw him with Rose. Did she have any bloody idea what that smile did to him? She took Rose in her arms and rained little kisses over the baby. Ron chose this time to tell her all about his plan for the following week. She looked utterly surprised, in a very good way. Why did she always look utterly surprised when he did things like that? _Probably because you do them surprisingly rarely, you git._ But he would make it memorable. Then it happened. She asked him in her most coaxing voice whether he remembered her school uniform and that little fantasy of his. It had been almost a year. She had not mentioned in almost a year and all of a sudden, here it was. Of course, he had not forgotten about it, how could he? He knew where she kept the uniform: in a special section of her wardrobe, funnily enough the same section where she kept her most provocative lingerie. She then told him they could see on a variation on that fantasy if he could please change Rose's nappy. Whatever Rose had done, he would change her. Hell, he would change ten thousand of Rose's nastiest nappies! But he would have Hermione back in her uniform, alone with him and his twisted fantasy.

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**A/N:** _Aha! How will Hermione make good on her promise? We'll see next two chapters. _

**I made revisions to this chapter from the earlier version. In the original version, Ron told Hermione in 1999 and it just took too long for her to act on it as several of you pointed out. I didn't want to change the time at which they acted on the fantasy so I decided to change the time at which Ron tells Hermione (it wouldn't be the first time he would be slow at revealing something to her, nudge nudge, wink wink). Let me know if this format worked. I think some of these snapshots may make good little stories on their own. The next chapter will be about the, ahem, fantasy itself.**_  
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	3. A memorable evening, part 1

**A/N**_ New chapter. I was going to make this the last one but thought it was going to be too long and out of balance with the first two chapters. So I am breaking this last part in two parts.  
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_Anyway, in this chapter, Ron takes his wife on a romantic date and Hermione starts making good on her promise, finally! If you're looking for angst, you won't find any here. It's all fluff and fun, with a side of tender love.  
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_Please read and review._

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of Harry Potter (deep sigh!)  
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**A memorable evening, part 1**

Hermione was looking at the content of her wardrobe. What was she going to wear? It had been a while since she had gone on a romantic date with her husband. Romantic dates were not the usual Ron fare. Now that she thought of it, it was quite extraordinary that he had thought of arranging for his Mum to watch Rose, making reservations at a posh Muggle French restaurant –he didn't even care for French food– and planning some dancing after that. She was the one enjoying French cuisine and dancing. She thought with a chuckle that Ron was a lot of things: loving, funny, tender, loyal, jealous, courageous, opinionated, but romantic was not one of those. And she had to admit she would not have him any other way. She was certain she owed Ginny a lot for this date. She made a mental note to thank Ginny next time she saw her.

She eventually decided on a simple royal blue wrap dress that was hugging her curves in just the right places. It was simple, elegant, and, she thought with glee, very easy to remove. Maybe she needed something a bit more exotic underneath. She perused the special section of her wardrobe where she kept such enticing garb and selected an exquisite robin-egg blue set of frilly bra and matching knickers. Yes, that would definitely work. She then saw it: her old Hogwarts uniform was there, neatly folded. With a smile, she remembered why she had put it in this special section of her wardrobe. She had promised Ron almost a few months ago that she would oblige him and his naughty school boy fantasy. She had told him it would be for a memorable occasion. And then last week, out of the blue, he had just surprised her with his plans for tonight. She had to make good on her promise to him, tonight. It would be a capper to what she hoped was going to be a really memorable evening.

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Ron was standing in the Burrow's kitchen. He was holding Rose while talking with his mother. A raging debate was going on inside of him. He was leaving his seven-month-old daughter with his parents and it was the first time Rose would not spend the night home with him and Hermione. Odd how difficult it was to let go of Rose. It was his Mum, there was no-one else he would trust more with his child. Still, it was difficult to leave his little Rosie. His Mum was looking at him with a funny look in her eyes.

"Ron, Dear, I've birthed and raised seven children. I think I can care for Rose."

"Mum, I know you can care for her. It's just… it's the first time she isn't sleeping home and…" he trailed off.

"It's hard?" Molly offered. "I know this, Ron, but shall I remind you it was your idea to bring Rose here? Besides, Hermione and you need some time for yourselves every now and then. It's quite natural Dear."

The way his Mum looked at him, he knew she was fully aware of what he intended to do with Hermione in their Rose-less time. His ears reddened and that made Molly laugh. She merrily added:

"Shall I expect another grand-child in nine months?"

"Mum!"

She took Rose from his embrace and Rose just happily giggled in her grandmother's arms. After a few more kisses and reassurances, Molly sent her youngest son on his way back to his wife.

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Ron Apparated in their small home and found Hermione waiting for him in the sitting room. She was dressed in a simple yet elegant blue dress that hit her curves in a way that made him almost drool. He wondered what she wore underneath. Hermione was always full of surprises in this department. She could wear the most sensible clothes with the frilliest knickers. Or sometimes, it would be simple white cotton undergarments. It didn't matter too much to him, really, as long as he was the one taking her bra and knickers off.

He was slightly disappointed that she had pulled her hair into an elegant knot at the base of her neck. He liked her hair best when it was untamed. But even with her hair tamed, she looked absolutely gorgeous and he was utterly, completely, and irreversibly in love with her. He was one lucky git to have Hermione as his wife. He went to her and kissed her mouth lightly before telling her:

"Rose is with Mum. Mum and Dad send their love. Well, I need to go and change. I'll be back in ten minutes."

"I'll be here."

When he came back to the living room, he had changed in nice dark gray Muggle suit, worn over a simple button down white shirt. The suit fit him very well, showcasing his tall and lean frame. She noticed he was also clean-shaven. She longed to run her hand against the smooth cheek. He was quite a vision and for a moment, Hermione thought the French restaurant could probably wait a bit before she remembered her uniform waiting upstairs. As tempting as it was, she had to accept that no, now was not the right time. They would enjoy that kind of fun later on although she had the entire evening to seduce her husband.

He offered her his arm and they Disapparated to a quiet alley in London, just a street over from the restaurant. The dinner was a nice affair. Ron noticed how Hermione would lean over to him, more than was necessary, and give him a plunging view of what looked like a nice blue frilly bra and what it covered. She touched his hand often, rubbing softly over his long fingers. She laughed a lot, probably aided by the two glasses of wine she had consumed. If he didn't know better, he would have thought that his wife was openly flirting with him! Not that he minded, not in the least.

The food was delicious –he had let Hermione order for him from the French-only menu. She ordered some elaborate French dessert for them to share. She could have ordered slugs as far as he was concerned. Didn't the French eat slugs or snails or something equally appealing? He would have eaten them -and he had already eaten slugs for her once and they weren't appealing at all, just slimy– if she was going to be as seductive as she was tonight. Was that her foot under the table, gently rubbing his?

"Ron, this is a charlotte au chocolat. Try it," she was holding a bite of her dessert on her fork.

"A what?" he asked her before sampling the dessert from her fork. It was delightful indeed.

"Charlotte au chocolat. It's a French dessert, with chocolate obviously and these little biscuits on the edge: they are boudoirs. A few years ago, you asked me what 'boudoir' meant."

"Ah, yes, 'boudoir'!" he gave her a chuckle remembering. "Funny enough, I only remembered it as a woman's bedroom."

"It goes to show where your mind wanders," she replied amused while putting another forkful of the dessert in his mouth.

Oh yeah, she knew exactly what she was doing! Why did she bring the topic when all he was already thinking of was how to get her out of that bloody curve-hugging dress?

They finished their meal and exited the restaurant hand in hand to go to the dance club. He would have much preferred to go back to their bedroom and skip the dance part but he reminded himself it was Hermione's night and she loved dancing. The dance club was also in the Muggle world and while Ron would probably not admit it to Hermione, Harry had helped him select the place. It was useful to have a best mate who had been raised by Muggles (even if they were horrible ones) in this type of situations.

Hermione was surprised, in a very good way, that Ron had remembered she enjoyed dancing and had selected a Muggle place of all places. She suspected Harry had helped him. It would be easy enough to find out but that was quickly out of her mind as he invited her on the dance floor. She always had a special thrill swaying with him, twirling in his arms. Ron was a very good dancer.

They started dancing over a few Muggle songs. Ron told her how peculiar he found Muggle music and she told him that at least it was better than Celestina Warbeck. Hermione definitely wasn't a fan of the Celestina Warbeck marathon his Mum listened to every Christmas over the wireless. Ron thought his wife had a very fair point there. She also mentioned one of her favourite Muggle songs called "Jealous Guy" by some Lennon bloke he had never heard of. She told him it reminded her of him and that made him smile. He would need to check that song when he had time. They danced to lively music and slower one, thoroughly enjoying each other's company. He knew how much Hermione loved it and he thought he was a decent dancer (one thing he had to thank his Mum for). As they were dancing to a slow tune, her lovely body pressed tightly against his and her hands around his neck he lowered his lips to her ear and whispered invitingly:

"Do you want to keep dancing or may I interest you in a different kind of body to body activity?"

He then nibbled softly her ear lobe which made her grin.

"I thought you would never ask," she replied in the same tone.

She took his hand and led him out back to a secluded alley where they could Disapparate. The minute they Apparated back in their house, Hermione could feel Ron's hands sensuously roaming over her body. He was standing behind her, cupping her breasts through her dress, sucking on the tender skin at the base of her neck. With a lascivious whisper he told her:

"Hermione, I really want you."

She laughed lightly.

"I somewhat figured that out for myself," she answered breathlessly while he ground the growing bulge in his trousers against her lower back.

"Is that so?" he asked playfully as one of his hands reached under her dress and started fondling her bum quite possessively.

"Uh uh!" came her answer. Merlin! Ron Weasley was very talented with his hands.

His other hand plunged inside her dress, underneath her bra and found her nipple. He pinched it none too gently and she let out a wild cry of pleasure.

"You like that, don't you?"

"Yes," she didn't feel too loquacious at the moment. She had spent the evening purposely flirting with him and wanted him just as much as he did her. Nonetheless, somewhere in the recesses of her brain, she knew she had something she wanted to do with Ron tonight but why interrupt what he was doing, so well, to her? She then saw the red and gold banner that was on the wall of their sitting room and a smile blossomed on her face. He was not the only one who could do things well.

She turned against him and took his lips in a slow kiss, full of promises. His responded with enthusiasm but she broke it. She almost laughed when she saw the look on his face. It was like he had just been told he could never have chocolate again. She put a finger on his lips and told him:

"I have a surprise for you, let me slip into something more comfortable."

"You can surprise me later," he groaned with unmasked impatience as her hand had landed squarely on his arse, a very fine one if she said so herself.

"Trust me, it will be worth it," she added seductively, piquing his interest enough to listen to her in earnest. "Just give me five minutes and make yourself comfortable."

He was starting to undress.

"Not that comfortable," she laughed. "We'll get to that later."

She took his hand and led him to their bedroom. She pushed him on the bed. He was always amazed that as small as she was, at least compared to him, she possessed quite a bit of strength.

"Stay here, will you? I'll be back shortly," she said in her most Hermione-is-in-charge voice.

He saw her disappear in their en-suite bathroom and wondered with mounting anticipation what she had in store for him.

In the bathroom, Hermione retrieved her old uniform from where she had hidden it earlier that evening. She saw with a certain pride that it still fit her to a t. She let her hair down. For reasons that completely escaped her, Ron just adored her hair untamed and in all its bushy glory. And that was also the way she had worn it at Hogwarts, except for the Yule Ball in fourth year but she preferred not to dwell on that.

She took a last look in the mirror and walked back in the bedroom. She was greeted by a very familiar lopsided grin as he immediately understood what the surprise was.

She approached the bed and did a little twirling.

"To your liking?" she asked in fake innocence.

"Very much so. You're wicked, you know?"

He lurched forward to grab her, a wolfish expression on his face but she got out of his reach. She tsk-tsked him.

"Show some restraint, Mr. Weasley," she told him in her best head girl voice "or I will have to deduct ten points from Gryffindor."

When he should have laughed at this, he found himself even more acutely aroused.

"I'll risk it," he replied in a hoarse voice.

"Not quite. We have a few more things to take care of."

With a flourish of her wand, she practiced some of the most advanced magic she had ever done. Ron looked at her in awe. He really had married the brightest witch of their age. She had transformed their bedroom in a very convincing replica of the Gryffindor common room. The white paint had been replaced by red and gold tapestry over stone walls. The bed had been changed into the large comfortable sofa that sat by the fireplace.

"I think that will do," she announced with a certain pride in her voice.

"You are a complete genius Hermione, you really are," he said in genuine admiration.

"I aim to please," she teased him.

She plopped herself on the sofa by the fireplace and patted the empty space next to her, an invitation to join her. In two fast steps, he was by her side.

"Now, I believe there was some part of your little fantasy involving ginger hair and my robes. Shall I get Crookshanks?" she asked mildly.

"Leave that bloody beast alone. It's just you and me."

He lay down on the sofa, resting his head on her lap and she started stroking his fiery hair, exactly the way he had imagined years ago. Slowly, her left hand started roaming down his shirt, unbuttoning it completely and shoving the fabric aside to reveal his bare chest. She traveled south to the hard ridges of his stomach, lazily lingering, tickling lightly around his navel. As he started laughing -she was guilty as she knew how ticklish he was- she took her hand further down and undid the zip of his trousers. His laugh suddenly caught in his throat but he decided to keep playing this thoroughly enjoyable game.

"You're very forward," he hissed as her hand went inside his boxer shorts. "I would have taken you for an innocent girl but now I could think you've done this before."

"Maybe I have," she answered huskily as she seized his length and started stroking quite expertly with the same slow and lazy rhythm she was using to caress his hair.

"I didn't expect you to have such experience. Where did you learn to do this?" his voice hitched as he was finding it increasingly difficult to talk. Hermione had small slender fingers and was very agile with them.

She lowered her lips to his ear and in a very suggestive voice replied:

"I read a lot about all kinds of things. It's amazing what you can learn in books."

"I'll make sure to read more."

She then scratched very lightly the sensitive area just under his shaft.

"Hermione," came a muffled groan.

He abruptly sat up and took her in his arms and made both of them lie down on the sofa, with Hermione on top of him. She sat back up so she could straddle him. She looked at her black Hogwarts robes and noticed one silky ginger hair, his. With a tone of mock-surprise, she announced:

"Oh look! There is some ginger hair on my robes!"

"Well, maybe you should take it off," he teasingly suggested.

"Maybe I shall," she replied in a prim voice while her fingers slowly went to undo the clasp holding the flaps of her robes together. She removed the robes and let them pool around her. She found she was highly enjoying this little game herself.

"Maybe you got some hair on your jumper too and you should remove that too, you know just to be safe."

"Just to be safe," she repeated and pulled the jumper over her head."

"And you look a bit constricted by this tie. Maybe you should loosen it a bit."

"Loosen it a bit," she echoed while sliding the knot and removing the tie. "Anything else?"

"You must be hot with this buttoned shirt. Maybe you should undo a few buttons... or all of them."

She undid the buttons all the way down, offering him a prime view of a very frilly blue bra that barely contained her beautiful breasts.

"Like this?"

"Yes, I definitely do," he said breathlessly as his hands started reaching for her silk-covered breasts. This little game got him more turned on than he could have ever imagined. And he had a very fertile imagination. She let his long fingers roam along her torso. He was touching her lightly but setting her skin on fire with every contact. He drew patterns across the silk of her bra, lingering over her rock-hard nipples but not removing the bra.

"Funny," he murmured, "I would have thought you would wear some white cotton underwear."

"Some days," she replied between two moans. "But today felt like a frilly blue bra day."

She moved her hands back to his trousers and lowered them down, taking his boxer shorts along the way, and fully exposing his throbbing erection. She took him in her hands and resumed the caresses she had performed earlier at a faster pace, eliciting wild moans of pleasure. There was something incredibly empowering in rendering him completely incoherent with a slight touch of her fingers. It was also incredibly arousing and the longing ache and wetness between her thighs told her how much she wanted him deep inside her.

He kept stroking her with fingers and lips, in ways he would never have mastered at sixteen but that was the beauty of this little fantasy. She probably could come just from the way he tenderly kissed her navel or adroitly played with her nipples through the silk of her frilly bra.

She bent down to him to take his mouth in a slow and languorous kiss. She brought her lips to his ear, sucking tenderly on his lobe and added in a barely audible whisper:

"I still have one piece of clothing I need to take off. My knickers are completely soaked."

He let out a feral groan and was thankful not to be his teenage self anymore as that comment would otherwise most likely have resulted in an awkward mess. She lifted her bum and slowly removed her knickers while keeping her skirt on, just the way he had fantasised a long time ago. He was completely still, his eyes fixed on her, the desire raw and plain in them. While locking her gaze on him, she fluidly and oh so slowly impaled herself on him. They moaned their contentment in unison.

His hands went back to her hips, underneath her skirt, enjoying the softness of her skin. She rocked him in slow motion, taking her time, belying the fact she was on the verge of climax. It was a slow torture for him, of the kind he would volunteer for without hesitation. There was nothing comparing to the feel of her surrounding him, sheathing him in her glorious body. She built a faster rhythm and he met her with vigorous thrusts. It didn't take long before they both cried their release.

She was lying on top of him. She was still wearing her shirt and skirt and he could feel the silk of her bra against his bare chest. He wrapped her tightly in his arms and kissed her affectionately murmuring something resembling "Love you". He waited for his breath to return to normal, looking around at the room she had so adeptly transformed and once again marvelling at her magical ability. She was the first to speak.

"Sorry it took a while to put this together. The magic for the transfiguration is a bit complex, even for me, but I did master it."

"Listen to me, Love. There is no reason to apologise. What you did was just abso-bloody-lutely amazing. I just figured you didn't want to do it and well, you should know I would never want you to do anything you're not fully comfortable with," he replied sincerely.

"That was not it. It's just I never quite seemed to find the memorable moment. Although in a way, I am glad you waited to tell me."

"Is that so?"

"Oh yes. There is no way we could have done that when we were sixteen. Practice does make perfect."

"You have a naughty mind, Hermione."

"And you don't?" she retorted arching an eyebrow. "Also I would never have been able to sit on the sofa in the common room again if we had done this while at Hogwarts," she chuckled.

"I am sure the actual sofa has been used for this very purpose at some point. Conversation I heard between George, Fred, and Lee way back."

"That's disgusting!" she said sounding somewhat queasy at the idea.

"You didn't seem to think so a few minutes ago!" he remarked and it was his turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Oh shut up Ron!" she said without heat as a smile blossomed on her face. "Actually, I think we need a shower now. Didn't you mention in that little fantasy of yours something involving what you would do to me and my uniform in the prefect bathroom? We do have all night to make this memorable, don't we?"

"Hermione, you are completely wicked, brilliant but wicked."

_To be continued..._

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**A/N **_Since they have the entire night and Hermione has promised memorable, they will need more than one go at it. I still will try to keep it light.  
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	4. A memorable evening, part 2

**A/N **_This is part 2 of the memorable evening. Sorry about the delay but posting to the site has been very difficult. I guess many of you are aware of the technical difficulties experienced by fanfiction right now.  
_

_I have made revisions to the earlier chapters to alter the time line in the story because, as several of you have commented, it just was too much time between the time the fantasy came in the open and the time it was executed in the original version.  
_

_Please read and review._

_Disclaimer: still the same, I don't own any of this._

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**A memorable evening, part 2**

Ron looked at his wife incredulously. It was indeed going to be a memorable evening.

Hermione stood up, performed a rapid cleaning charm and started re-buttoning her shirt, hiding from his view the lovely blue frilly bra he had been enjoying so much. His disappointment must have shown on his face for she told him:

"Now, the prefect bathroom is a different story from the Gryffindor common room, isn't it? So we start afresh. Besides, you don't expect I would have walked around Hogwarts half-naked?"

"Well, now that you mention it..."

"You have such a dirty mind," she said with a smile and kissed him lightly. "Don't worry. There is more enjoyment to be had."

While she finished putting her uniform back on, he stood up and readjusted his own clothes. The dark gray trousers and white button down shirt he had been wearing for the evening not entirely different from his old uniform, except that they had only belonged to him and that they fit him well.

Hermione took his hand and led him to their small en-suite bathroom. She thought for a minute about the best way she could perform the magic she needed. She took a deep breath and started working. The end result was quite impressive. She had managed to replicate the ornate chandelier, the white marble sink and the large bath with its intricate faucet system. Nonetheless, the room and bath still felt a bit too small. She then saw him take his wand out and take over from her, expanding the bath to almost a small pool-size and increasing the room size to accommodate it.

"I had to take some of the bedroom space but that should do," he said with a smug smile.

She looked at him with surprise etched all over her face.

"Always the look of surprise," he said mildly but with clear humour. "I'm an Auror. I've had to learn to fully use a wand for myself."

"That's fantastic!" The admiration in her voice was genuine. "Well, now, where do we start?"

"Here!" was his only answer as he kissed her deeply but gently. He broke the kiss and slowly brought his hand to her face, stroking the skin of her cheek with his long fingers. The softness of it was familiar but oh so enthralling. She had been giggling a few seconds earlier, amused by their little game, but there was so much tenderness in his gesture that the laugh died in her throat. Their gaze locked: a match of blue against brown. She saw it in his eyes: love, lust, adoration, tenderness. She could fall in love with him all over again just by looking in his eyes. Gently, he continued caressing her face, using his fingers and then his lips to trace her forehead, nose, and lips. He lingered there a bit, enjoying their softness and taste.

His hands continued their journey south and went toward the clasp that held her robes together. Her hands reached over to help him but he just grabbed them and removed them gently.

"Let me, please," he murmured. "I've dreamed of taking you out of this uniform for quite a while now."

He unfastened her robes and gently separated the flaps before taking them off completely and letting them pool at her feet. Slowly, his fingers started reaching her neck, lingering at her nape, twining with a loose tendril of hair. His lips came next: tender, sweet, teasing her skin and sending shivers down her spine. He reached for her jumper and pulled it over her head. He then lifted her and sat her on the white marble sink. She was at perfect height for him from this perch.

He undid the tie around her neck and it went to join on the floor the robes and jumper discarded earlier. He kept raining little kisses all over her, driving her crazy with the need for him that was building in her. His slow pace and gentleness were incredibly arousing.

He continued undressing her slowly, his fingers now undoing the buttons of her shirt. After each one, he would open her shirt further and kiss the skin underneath. Button, kiss, button, kiss. When he had undone all of them, he gently pushed the fabric down her arms but not removing the shirt off her. He exposed her blue bra once more, smiling slowly as if to say "glad to see you again." He undid the front clasp, parting the blue silk to reveal her breasts. He bent to take one nipple in his mouth, nipping at it and eliciting a soft moan. He then directed his attention to the other as if it were a jealous sibling. He started a slow and delightful torture with his fingers and tongue, caressing, laving, teasing.

His hands started going down to her legs, rubbing deliciously against her knees and moving up her thighs. His touch was feather-like as his fingers lazily climbed up the bare skin of her thighs underneath her skirt. He was taking his time, enjoying the softness of her skin under his fingertips. His mouth was still busying itself around her breasts, sometimes dipping down to her navel, leaving a trail of delicate yet searing little kisses.

She was gripping his shoulders to steady herself, digging her nails through the thin cotton of his shirt. She was arching and whimpering under his touch, her body ablaze. His slow moves drove her mad with need for him. She wanted him inside her, wanted to tear his shirt off to feel his skin against hers. Yet, he was taking his time as if going on a pleasant stroll, his hands now reaching her round bottom and cupping it possessively. He paused for a moment. Through her befuddled state, Hermione saw a slow grin, slightly lopsided, blossom on his face.

"You're not wearing any knickers. You said you wouldn't have walked around Hogwarts half-naked but you're not wearing any knickers."

He seemed to enjoy that fact just a bit too much, Hermione thought. She licked her lips and in her most prim Hermione tone told him:

"I think we've established I am not wearing any knickers. You see, they were the casualty of a close encounter with a certain handsome, tall, ginger man."

"Is that so?"

"Well, yes."

"You put your other clothes back on," he whispered to her ear as his fingers got closer to her most intimate space. He found and rubbed the little bundle of nerves there and she shuddered.

"Yes," she started in a high voice, "but..."

Her words died in her throat and were replaced by a low moan as he drove one of his fingers inside her. He inserted another one, working her at the same deliberate pace he had used to undress her. Just when she thought she was could not take any more, he knelt down. He parted her legs further apart and started tenderly kissing the inside of her thighs and moving higher and higher until he met her hot and wet centre. With lips and tongue joining his fingers, he kept pleasuring her until she screamed his name loudly while her body yielded to the explosion of senses. He watched her: there was nothing more enjoyable to him than seeing her in complete abandon and knowing he was responsible for it.

Her breathing finally returned to a less ragged rhythm. She opened her eyes and saw him grinning from ear to ear, very smugly. His smile started faltering as a devilish and naughty one spread across her face.

"Proud of yourself, aren't you?"

She climbed down from the sink and pushed him a bit back. He was once again amazed by the strength her compact body possessed. His thoughts went blank when her nimble hands worked on his trousers. It took her little time to lower trousers and boxer shorts to free the tell-tale sign of his arousal. She then knelt down in front of him and brought her lips to his shaft. She started kissing him before slowly taking him in her mouth.

"Hermione," came a muffled cry. She used the right amount of pressure and licking to drive him to the brink of madness. She then let go of him and told in a demanding voice:

"I – want – you – inside – me! Now!"

Merlin was she a bossy one! But he didn't have to be told twice. He caught her and spun her around so she could use the sink for support. He bent her over and lifted her skirt to expose her soft flesh. She was still slick from his previous effort and he just buried himself into her with a loud growl. She responded in kind to his thrusts, pumping her hips in a frenetic rhythm and moaning quite loudly. Her skirt was bunched around her waist and her open shirt was still covering her back. Her wild hair kept bouncing with each pounding. He was going to remember this view of her for a very long time. He felt her tighten around him and he let go, all the while screaming her name.

"Wow! That was…" he started, his breath still short. He held her a hand and took her in his arms.

"Bloody incredible," she finished as she snuggled in the familiar spot.

"Language," he laughed against her hair. "We do need a bath now."

They finished undressing completely and entered the almost pool size bath, which was filled with foamy warm water. He was sitting behind her and had his arms wrapped around her waist while her head rested on his shoulder. She had to ask him:

"Why the prefect bathroom, of all places? Why not the library? I spent much more time in the library?"

He gave a soft laugh.

"The library? No, I can't help thinking of Madam Pince when I think of the library. Sorry, but not really a turn on. No, it is just that I spent a lot more time in the prefect bathroom. That's where I came when I needed to erm…you know?"

"Bathe?" she asked in fake innocence.

"Wank," he admitted sheepishly and although she couldn't see his face behind her, she knew he was blushing. He continued: "It started after one of the DA meetings. I saw you in just your skirt and shirt and, well…"

"I stunned you," she interrupted. "I remember. I remember how you looked too. Quite hungry," she chuckled.

"Well, I made a detour by the prefect bathroom on the way back. I was a prefect after all. I started coming back after that because the place offered more privacy than anything else and I had time to think of a lot of scenarios involving you and your uniform while I took care of what needed to be taken care of. I think we made good on quite a few tonight."

"Glad we got this out of the way. But you know masturbation is a normal process for the hormone-ridden teenage body," she smiled. "It certainly helped me."

His jaw dropped at this revelation.

"Come off it! You? You did?"

"Come on Ron, I was a normal sixteen year old girl with regular needs and a major crush on the most clueless boy around. I had to learn to use a hand for myself."

"Were you wearing your uniform?" he asked mischievously.

"Your mind is so perverted, I swear. Most times. Although if this is any consolation to you, my fingers were never as good as yours. "

"And I am the one with a perverted mind?"

"We just make a good pair," she replied.

"That we do," he told her softly as he kissed her shoulder. "Hermione?"

"Yes"

"Thank you. Thank you for a memorable evening."

"Trust me, the pleasure was all mine," she replied cheekily.

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**A/N **_Ah, it sounded like a good time. There will be a short epilogue soon. What was Hermione thinking all the time Ron was focusing on her uniform? Should be up in 7 to 10 days._


	5. Hermione's Hogwarts Experience

**A/N**_ This is Hermione's time. What was she thinking all this time Ron was fantasizing about her uniform. Did she have a thing for a specific attribute of Ron's? This chapter parallels the first one. There will be a follow up chapter paralleling Ron's obsession._

_Please read and review._

_Disclaimer: as much as I wish otherwise, I don't own Harry Potter._

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**Hermione's Hogwarts Experience**

** September 1991**

She had just met Harry Potter! The boy looked like a fish out of water, obviously as new to the magical world as she was. And there was his friend, she supposed, that Ron Weasley boy, who had so utterly failed at doing magic. He had looked at her as if she were half mad for having put her Hogwarts robes on already. Well, that Ron Weasley would be easy to recognise: tall, not talented at spells, dirt on his nose, freckles, and really bright red hair.

**September 1992**

She couldn't believe it. Ron had defended her against Malfoy's insults. She wasn't that surprised actually. After all, Harry and Ron had fought a troll to save her the previous year but they had done so out of guilt. But this time was different: her life wasn't in danger and she could have found a snappy retort to Malfoy's obvious slur. Yet, Ron had stood up to Malfoy and had tried to defend her single-handedly. That was so… chivalrous? Of course, the consequences had been disastrous for Ron and she had to help Harry to take him to Hagrid's. She looked at her uniform: there was slime on it, from the slugs, and a few bright ginger hairs, Ron's hair she realised: a little token of his noble action. Her heart gave a little sigh. She finally had true friends.

**September 1993**

It was the second time she was living this hour and she was coming to the conclusion that Divination was a poor use of her Timeturner. She could have spent this time getting ahead on her homework for Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. This lesson was complete rubbish and Professor Trelawney a complete fraud. The classroom was hot and reeked of some incense that made Hermione queasy. Harry looked like he was about to fall asleep and Ron's eyes were unfocused but he had a giddy smile on his face, as if he was day-dreaming about something nice and pleasant. She glanced furtively at him: his hair had lightened a bit during the time he spent in Egypt and his freckles seemed to have multiplied exponentially. Still, his hair looked so soft and silky and the current lighter shade was just as exquisite as the natural bright red. It was like it begged to be stroked. _Right, why do I care so much about Ron's hair?_

**December 1994**

She had finally put Malfoy in his right place. She had also shown Harry and Ron that one didn't need hexes or punches to fight the twitchy little ferret, although the two boys had been ready to indulge in both as Malfoy had launched yet another insult at her. Malfoy was just not worth her time. Then, as the three of them went up the stairs laughing, Ron had finally noticed her teeth had changed. Was he finally noticing she was a girl? He seemed to really care who she was going to the Yule Ball with. He looked a bit... jealous? How would he react when he learnt it was Viktor she was going with? Viktor was nice, a true gentleman. Yet, he wasn't the one ready to beat Malfoy to a bloody pulp to defend her honour like Ron was. Nor did he make her laugh like Ron did, nor did he infuriate her like Ron did. And his hair was short and black, not a brilliant and silky ginger mane in which she wanted to rake her fingers.

**November 1995**

She was amazed at herself. Here she was, Hermione Granger, model student, breaking about fifty school rules and risking being expelled. Ron kept telling her that Harry and he had a bad influence on her. She didn't care. She was doing it for a purpose. They could all use Harry's teaching. They would all need all the training they could with what was awaiting. And Harry was a far superior teacher to that... that toad-faced hag. So here they were in a DA meeting. She was paired with Ron, by mutual choice. Ron! He was still infuriating to her at times but they had also become closer during the time they spent without Harry at Grimmauld Place. She had known for over a year that what she felt for him was a lot more than friendship. She thought at times he felt the same but repressed the thought. He was only interested in her as a friend.

The worst thing was that she was now thinking of him in brand new ways. Such as she was doing now. He was standing there in front of her. He was wearing his uniform trousers that were about an inch too short. He seemed to have grown by a foot over the summer, now really towering over her. His shirt was untucked. As he had stretched earlier, she had seen some bare skin and a wisp of a trail of copper hair travelling south into the waistband of his trousers. She had felt a surge of heat in her nether regions. Ron was not handsome by classical standards. He was lanky, slouched a bit, had big feet and big hands and a nose just a bit too long, and bright red hair. Ah, his hair. She could imagine herself threading her fingers through it while his mouth would ravage hers, see the top of this wonderful ginger mane while he would kiss her bare breasts, her navel, her... He was looking at her, staring actually, at her breasts it seemed. She was only wearing her cotton school shirt and it was much more form-fitting than the jumper and robes that completed the Hogwarts uniform. Their eyes locked although his looked slightly unfocused. But she saw a look of hunger. How could he be hungry? They had just eaten a few hours ago and he had taken third helpings. Then she saw the hunger was a bit different. It wasn't food he craved. It was... her? The realisation flummoxed her and she just uttered the spell without thinking: "Stupefy!"

Later that evening, she took care in closing her curtains around her bed and cast a silencing charm before her trembling hand reached down her body, her thoughts full of a certain ginger-haired wizard.

**February 1997**

Crookshanks was resting on her lap, shedding ginger hair all over her Hogwarts robes and purring contently under her stroking. How she wished it could be a different set of ginger hair she could stroke. She had never told him or even Harry, but there was a reason she had chosen a ginger cat. She sighed. She would have wanted nothing more than having Ron's head on her lap and let her hand twine through his red locks. His hair had grown a bit and it was slightly shaggy but the look suited him very well. But she couldn't think of that. He had, for reasons unknown to her, taken on eating Lavender's face (the cow!) a few days after she had found the courage to invite him on a date and he hadn't stopped since. The pig! Of course, she had gone out to Slughorn's party with Cormac just because she knew it would annoy Ron the most. And she had an inkling that Ron would want to tear apart Cormac limb by limb or worse if he ever learnt that Cormac had somewhat forcibly kissed her. She had taken care of the situation. She had hexed Cormac with a nasty rash in what she imagined would be the most uncomfortable place for a man. Harry had thought so too when she had told him. Harry had even said that was very low to do that to a bloke, even if it was a prat like McLaggen. When she had told Harry what Cormac had done though, Harry had told her she had done the right thing and asked her whether she wanted him to renew the hex and to please keep that from Ron unless they wanted another murder at Hogwarts. It had been good to see Harry laugh. He certainly was a bit preoccupied these days.

She was lost in thoughts when she saw him come in the common room. His lips were plump, probably because he had just spent an hour eating that cow Lavender's face. He looked at her and she saw it in his eyes: a certain longing for her but above all, a sheer look of misery and unhappiness. It was like he wanted to talk with her but she just averted her eyes and continued petting Crookshanks. There was some satisfaction knowing she wasn't the only one suffering. Now, could they stop being complete idiots about it?

**July 1997**

She was sorting through the books. She had so many of them. She was happy she had mastered the undetectable extension charm. She would need it to make everything fit in the little beaded purse. Ron was looking at her. She was in his room after all, and they were alone. But Ron being Ron, nothing would happen. She thought, no, she was convinced he reciprocated her feelings but he would probably much rather dance the tango with an acromantula than admit anything of the sort to her. He had held her the previous day when she had cried about what she had to do to protect her parents, when what they were about to do had fully hit her. He had held her tightly, had let her dampen his t-shirt with her tears, had murmured comforting words but he had not tried anything else. She knew it was not the right time. Whatever they felt for one another, if they ever dared admit it to the other, would have to take a back seat to the Horcrux hunt they were about to embark on. They had a mission: help Harry fight Voldemort. So here she was, sorting through her things: a lot of books and oh, was that her school uniform? He was standing there looking at her, in the middle of his orange room. She saw a certain look of longing in his eyes as her hands reached the black robes. Did he have a thing for her uniform? And then it passed, like some realisation had dawned on him. He was standing next to her, she wanted to throw herself at him, snog him senseless and finally get a full grip on that tentalising hair of his, but nothing would happen. Would anything ever happen between her and Ron?


	6. Hermione's hairy obsession

**A/N**_ This is the follow up on Hermione's side of things. This runs parallel to "Ron's obsession". This is the conclusion of this story. There is a short epilogue at the end.  
_

_Please enjoy and review_

_Disclaimer: you know the drill: not mine  
_

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**Hermione's hairy obsession**

**October 1998**

Two more days! Hermione couldn't believe how much she missed him. How unfair it seemed that after so many years of dancing around each other, it was when they finally found each other that they had to be parted again. It had been a difficult decision to make but her heart was set on going back and finish Hogwarts while his was set on becoming an Auror and stay close to his family, especially George. That fierce protectiveness toward his loved ones, including herself, was one reason she had fallen so hard for him. She missed that. She missed his sardonic sense of humour and the way he could make her laugh like no-one else. She missed his colourful language, not that she would ever admit it. And her treacherous body longed for his touch, his kisses. The way he looked at her like she was the most beautiful woman on the planet and there was nobody or nothing else worth his time or breath. She craved his wicked mouth on her, the way it left searing kisses all over her, the way it devoured her body, the way it would whisper her name so lovingly. She missed his exquisite hair, the tickling of it against her skin as he would kiss her breasts. She missed threading her small hands through the silky locks as he drove her to the brink of madness. She had finally got her wish and access to the mane that had fascinated her so much all these years and she had become quite addicted to it. Two more days before she could feel it again. She saw Ginny wave at her impatiently while asking her where she had escaped to. Ginny took one look at the blushing face of her best friend and shook her head. She pronounced Hermione a lost cause when it came to that git that was her brother.

Two days later, Hermione was sorry to have to let Ron go after what had been too brief an encounter. Although they had made the most of it she thought as heat spread through her at the memories of skin against skin, lips against lips, bodies melding together. He had innocently asked why she wasn't wearing her uniform. She was starting to think she had been right about him having a thing for her uniform. She had told him it was Saturday and there was no need to wear it. And it really didn't matter what she wore anyway as he was always trying to get her out of it.

**Christmas 1998**

Christmas was here and she was back at her childhood house. It was almost five in the morning. Her parents were sleeping soundly in the room across from hers while she was looking at the ceiling of her bedroom, unable to sleep. She was going to see Ron tonight, go and celebrate Christmas at the Burrow with him and what she thought of as her surrogate family. The scars from the events of the past year were still a bit raw and she expected it would be an emotional Christmas but she wanted to spend time with him. She wondered... of course, he would be asleep in his room at Grimmauld Place. Harry and he had moved there two months ago after ridding the house of the last remnants of the Black family's obsession with the dark arts and blood supremacy. Harry had changed the wards so she, and only she, could Apparate directly in the house. She took a look at her watch: 5:05. Her parents wouldn't wake up for another two hours. She stripped out of her pyjamas and took the bulky dressing gown that she usually wore to lounge around the house in the evening. Too bad her uniform was in the laundry she thought somewhat amused. She could have checked whether her inkling about Ron and her uniform was correct or not. She wondered how he would react. Well, she was completely bare underneath the robe after all and she had only put the dressing gown on because Apparition while naked was not a good idea. She concentrated on her destination, her mind full of his red hair. She saw him reach for his wand as she Apparated into his room. Old habits died hard. As he recognised her, he lowered his wand and gave her one of his lopsided grins. He still looked quite sleepy. Ron wasn't a morning person. She untied the dressing gown and didn't miss the gleam of lust that shone in his eyes. She let the dressing gown hit the floor, leaving her naked, and joined him in the bed. As his arms reached for her greedily and his mouth came crashing on hers, she thought she could make him enjoy early mornings and maybe they could make this a Christmas tradition.

**March 1999**

There was something to be said for lounging around naked on Ron's bed. Especially when he was lying next to her, as bare as she was, and looking thoroughly spent. He hadn't asked about her uniform this time as they had met in Hogsmeade. They had just Apparated directly at Grimmauld Place and had worked toward getting out of their clothes as fast as they could. Oh yes, it had been a brilliant idea! He said he was a lazy bloke and she could just do all the work. Ron was fully aware of her bossy streak and seemed to thoroughly enjoy it . She had taken full control, looking at him lovingly, threading her fingers through his exquisite hair, enjoying how silky it felt in her hands. She had then ridden him into complete abandon, reducing him to a babbling and incoherent man. And it hadn't been work. It had been pure enjoyment actually, a nice distraction from NEWT revisions. And there she was lying on her belly, on his bed, reading the Quibbler and feeling his eyes on her. He made her feel treasured, beautiful, powerfully feminine. She sensed his fingers trail lightly along her spine, reaching her bottom in the lightest of caresses. She just sighed in contentment.

**July 1999**

Hermione had to admit it: she had a lot of books. She wondered how all of them would fit in what was now her room at Grimmauld Place. She had accepted Harry's offer to move with him and Ron. Harry had been coy about it, saying the location was very convenient to the job at the Ministry she would start in September. She loved Harry to death and truly considered him her brother but the Chosen One couldn't fool her. She knew he mostly wanted her in the house to distract Ron so as to be able to pursue and deepen his relationship with Ginny. She just knew. She had an inkling Ron knew as well, even if he would probably rather snog Kreacher than admit it. Yet, she could not deny the benefits of the offer Harry had made. There was the central London location and the free rent, although she had insisted she wanted to pay Kreacher wages for his services. The best of all however was unfettered access to Ron, all six feet and two inches of him, his lips, his strong and yet gentle hands, his ropey muscles, and his wonderful silky fiery hair. She smiled inwardly as she thought of his hair and the effect it had on her. Right, time to go back to putting her clothes in the wardrobe. After all, it wasn't as if they hadn't enthusiastically celebrated her moving in, most recently just a few hours ago. She returned to putting her clothes in the wardrobe. She found her Hogwarts uniform. Her heart was still too attached to Hogwarts to let go of it. She could feel Ron's gaze on her as she put the uniform in the back of the wardrobe. She heard him sigh ever so lightly. She had never worn the uniform during their monthly encounters over the past ten months, even if she had sometimes thought Ron had a thing for her uniform and her in it. The truth was she could never have obliged whatever Ron most likely had in mind and later wear the same uniform to attend lessons with Professor McGonagall. But her time at Hogwarts was over: she was just going to make sure to keep the uniform in a special place in her wardrobe.

**July 2001**

Her heart was swelling with pride although she was holding better than Molly who was unashamedly crying tears of joy as her youngest son officially became an Auror. Hermione had always known Ron was fully capable of realising his ambition of becoming an Auror. He certainly had had enough field experience but it had taken hard work and determination as well and he had done it. It had also instilled confidence in him and quelled some of his old insecurities. He sought her in the crowd and returned her bright smile when he found her.

She thoroughly enjoyed the party at Harry's afterward but she just longed to be alone with Ron to have their own private celebration. The minute they Apparated back in the sitting room of their flat, she reached for him, fisting her hands in his silky ginger hair, and pulling his lips toward her. She took him in a greedy kiss and wasted no time in getting him out of his Auror robes. They never made it past the sofa and just gave in to their raw desire there. Her breathing and heart rate were just returning to a normal pace. She could feel his warm naked body next to her, his hand still resting on her thigh. She was playing with his red locks, twining them between two of her fingers. She had wanted to get him out of his Auror uniform all day, had barely contained herself. It was dawning on her what effect a uniform could have. She still wondered every now and then whether he had harbored a secret fantasy about her Hogwarts uniform. She smiled at him very cheekily as a brilliant and naughty idea came to her. She picked up his robes and put them on. They were grossly over-sized for her but she felt a rush of raw feminine power at seeing the look on his face at the mere suggestion of the fun they would have with his uniform that night.

**August 2003**

Bickering? Weren't they past this? Obviously no as Ron could be so pig-headed sometimes. The words flew back and forth. Their breaths hitched. Their voices rose to high pitches and went to cold lows. Her hair was probably getting bushier from all the tension in the room while his still looked its usual: red, silky, and oh so enticing, just begging to be stroked. And then the apex came as he let out an imaginative string of choice curse words and left the kitchen where they had been arguing about something insignificant. She heard the door of their bedroom slam and what sounded like furniture being kicked. She grabbed an empty vase that was lying around on the kitchen counter and threw it energetically against the wall where it shattered into pieces. She then let out a scream of frustration and sat down to count to ten or maybe one hundred.

When she had calmed down -it had taken counting to three hundred and sixty-seven- she cast a repairing charm over the broken vase. She went to their bedroom and opened the door. She saw him standing there. The anger was completely gone from his face and had been replaced by a somewhat guilty look, as if she had caught him in the middle of something. He reached for her at the same time she did for him. They met in the middle of the room and murmured an apology at the same time, before exchanging a tender kiss. He then asked her what the word "boudoir" meant. She chuckled. There was no doubt in her mind he was not asking about the French biscuit. She knew where he had been and why he was looking so sheepish. Had he found her Hogwarts uniform in that special section of her wardrobe? So she told him about the French biscuit and also about the other meaning of the word "boudoir", while asking him to stay out of her wardrobe. He just reached for her, lifted her off her feet and carried her to their bed. They may not be past bickering but they had found a much better way to make up.

**March 2006**

Her back was hurting slightly from standing a bit longer than she should have. The baby was kicking up a storm in her swollen belly. She still had to wait two more months to meet her. She tried to imagine what the little being growing in her womb would look like. She had the intuition it was a girl and she imagined her sometimes, riding a broomstick, her thick silky red hair flying behind her. She would have Ron's hair because it had to be that way. Who wouldn't prefer his amazing fiery hair over her bushy ordinary brown one?

She went back to organising the content of her wardrobe. Even if their flat would have been much too small for the two of them and a baby, she must have been half-mad to agree to moving to a new house while being seven months pregnant. Pregnancy did bring things into a different perspective: she tired more easily, had an appetite that could rival Ron's, could go from a state of pure elation to bursting into tears within a single minute. She also couldn't keep her hands off Ron. Not that he seemed to mind, really. If anything, he made her feel even more revered and treasured, she thought as her hands reached for her Hogwarts uniform. She still had it after all these years. She had to get to the bottom of whatever it was he had for that uniform.

She mentioned aloud something about getting rid of it. His response was priceless: an emphatic "no", as if she had threatened to drown a puppy. She asked him what was so special about her uniform. She saw him redden like he hadn't in a few years. She was somewhat entertained she had been right. She pursued and asked if he had been having fantasies, of the sexual kind about her in her uniform. He merely nodded and she prodded further. The floodgate opened and Ron gave her the full story, although she thought he had censored some parts. Words had never been his strong suit. She remained silent for a minute, digesting all of it: he had dreamed of taking her in the Gryffindor common room and the Prefect Bathroom. And he had been creative about it. She knew he would never ever force her to do anything she wouldn't want to do but that wasn't an issue as she was completely game for this little fantasy. It actually sounded like it could be quite enjoyable and regretted not having obtained this information out of him earlier.

She finally told him the truth, that she had had an inkling for a while that he had a thing for her uniform and that's why she kept it in that special section of her wardrobe. She promised him she would oblige that little fantasy of his and she would make it a memorable occasion, once she was able to fit in the uniform again. He just whispered to her that she really was the brightest witch of her age.

**December 2006**

She was walking back home. Back to the two people she craved more than anyone in the world: Ron and Rose. Their little Rose**,** looking so much like him with her beautiful blue eyes and red hair. She had been born with a tuft of ginger hair and it had grown fuller in seven months but it was the same silky and red locks as Ron, albeit curlier. Hermione kept strolling leisurely. She could have Apparated but she enjoyed the walk and the time alone with her thoughts. Somehow, Ron understood this and was the one who had volunteered to stay home with Rose so Hermione could have some alone time. She knew he wasn't making any sacrifice there as he was completely smitten with his daughter. However, the fact Ron understood her needs so well was another reason she loved him. She opened the door and saw them in the kitchen. He was making faces to entertain Rose who was giggling happily. Her heart melted for him all over again as she gave them a tender smile and reached for Rose, showering her with kisses.

As she was holding the baby and starting to think little Rose needed a new nappy, Ron told her about plans he had made for them for the following week. A special evening, just the two of them, with dinner at a posh French restaurant and dancing afterward. He had arranged for Molly to watch Rose for the night. Hermione couldn't believe her ears. He had done all this for her. Just because. She decided the time was right. She asked him in her most coaxing voice whether he remembered her school uniform and that little fantasy of his. She then told him they could see on a variation on that fantasy if he could please change Rose's nappy. The eagerness he showed in tending to this simple request reassured her it was the right decision. She promised herself she would make it a memorable night for both of them.

* * *

**Epilogue: the end of a memorable evening  
**

He had helped her restoring their bedroom to its original state. She had put her Hogwarts uniform back in her wardrobe. It had been a memorable evening. They had both made sure of it. They were now back in their bed, utterly spent and finally ready to give in to sleep. He had gathered her in his arms like he did every night. She had her head in the crook of his neck like she did every night. He spoke softly in the dark:

"So, what were you fantasising about when you were at Hogwarts?"

"Your hair," she answered truthfully.

"Really?" he asked half-amused, half-incredulous.

"Yes," she replied as she felt herself blushing in the dark.

Ron couldn't see her but smiled inwardly as he was certain she had this pretty blush on her face. He now understood why she was always running her hands in his hair or stroking it. It all made perfect sense.

"I guess you have had time to make good on those fantasies then? Well, it's all yours, my hair. It's always been yours, really."

She gave him a tender kiss and ran her hand through his locks just on principle. She was quiet for a few minutes. He was starting to drift to sleep when she finally asked him:

"Ron, do you still have your Quidditch uniform?"

* * *

**A/N: **_Well, this is it. The end. I hope you enjoyed. If you did, please do leave a review. They do make my day!_


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